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GRAPHID^, 



OR 



CHARACTERISTICS OF PAINTERS 



" Jeder Character wird Dir ein eigenes Gemahlde seyn, und Du wirst eine 
herrliche Gallerie von Bildnissen zum Spiegel Deines Geistes um Dich her 
versarmnelt haben." 

Tieck's Phantasien. 



A & 



PRIVATELY PRINTED. 



M.DCCC.XXXVIIL 

e 
G 



THESE compositions were first written down as a kind 
of sport in art, to describe the painters to whom they 
severally relate by some awakened association with a 
favourite picture, or some general characteristic of the 
artisfs genius. They are here preserved, because it is 
pleasant to connect the impression produced on the mind 
by a work of art with any familiar expression in lan- 
guage which the mind may chance to have retained. 

Some of these little sketches have become more serious 
than the design which prompted them : in some perhaps 



VI 



the tone of criticism has deadened the lively flow of sen- 
timent which they were meant to convey : I am content if 
in any of them the Idea of the great works and minds of 
Artists has been partially approached. 

Yet in offering this slight Volume to the few friends 
to whom it can be an acceptable gift, the author has the 
pleasure of fancying that he may share their thoughts 
when they return to the works of the masters to whom 
these lines refer : and to the indulgence of such readers 
at such times, he commends this Book. 

H. R. 



G R A P H I D M, 



A DRAWING BY GIOTTO, 

DATED 1315. 



Credette Cimabue nella pittura 

Tener lo carapo ; ed ora ha Giotto il grido 

Si che la fama di colui s' oscura. 

Dante, Purg. xi. 97. 



O'er these faint lines perchance did Dante bend. 
And watched the pencil of his solemn friend ; 
Smiled in his sacred musings as he saw 
New forms conceived in love, evoked in awe. 
Such as in visions he himself had known,— 
Giotto's the lines — the spirit was his own. 



PIETRO PERUGINO 



Sacrifico laudem Sanctificatori meo, quoniam pulchra trajecta per animas 
in manus artificiosas ab ilia pulchritudine veniunt quge super animas est, 
cui suspirat anima mea die ac nocte. 

Sanct. Augustin. Confess, x. c. 34. 



How calm and beautiful when Art was young 

The Seraph-sisters o'er the Painter hung, 

Ere his deep power was strained by passions rude, 

Or scattered in delicious lassitude ! 

Pure as the lily in her own long hands, 

Bent like some humbler flower, the Virgin stands, 

Whilst by the grace which from her forehead shone 

The Church made Art's great progeny its own. 



FRA BARTOLOMEO DI SAN MARCO. 



Antonio. Meint ihr, dass unsre Kunst so viel vermag ? 
Silvestro. Sie ist die schone Briicke, Regenbogen 

Die zwischen Erd' und Himmel ausgespannt ist. 
Antonio. Das ist die Religion. 

Correggio, von (Ehlenschliiger, 



By gnawing fasts, by vigils kept apart, 
The Monk subdued the blandishments of Art, 
Lest he should lend one transient grace of Earth 
To the pure Mother of her Maker's birth. 
Cold penitents now shiver round his cell, 
And meagre saints devoutly terrible ; 
Yet cherubs linger o'er the sad abode, 
And penance' self reserves a smile for God, 



b 2 



THE TWO ANGELS 



Adam 1 I therefore came : nor art thou such 
Created, or such place hast here to dwell, 
As may not oft invite, though Spirits of Heaven, 
To visit thee. 

Parad. Lost, book v. 



The two Archangels who have thrones above, 

The one as Lord of Power, the one of Love, 

In their great service from Creation's birth, 

Have been the Watchers and the Friends of Earth, 

To hurl the Dragon from his guilty seat, 

To make the breath of life more wise and sweet ; 

And thus when Art was deckt by hands divine, 

Power still was MichaePs gift, — Love, Raphael, thine ! 



MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI 



Ev avdp(x>i>, kv Qeiov yevos' ejc 
Mias 8e nveofiev 
Marpos cifi<porepoi. 
Aieipyei de iraaa iceicpifieva 
Awaits — 

aWa rt Trpo<J<pepo}iev 
E/X7rav, tj peyav voov i]- 
toi (pvaiv, aOavarois. 

Pindar, Nem. vi, 



He ranged the Host of Heaven : the Seraphim 
Oped the bright eye and stretched the sturdy limb ; 
Man stood majestic in the strength of years, 
And woman's beauty shone undimmed by tears, — 
With Heaven's high valour on the strenuous brow, 
With power to conquer fiends whose frauds they know, 
He formed the Angel-warriors for such strife, — 
God saw the work was good, and gave them life. 



RAFFAELLE 



Rapt with the rage of mine own ravisht thought, 

Through contemplation of these goodly sights, 

And glorious images in Heaven wrought, 

Whose wondrous beautie, breathing sweet delights, 

Doth kindle love in high conceipted sprights, 

I fain to tell the things that I behold, 

But feel my wits to faile and tongue to fold. 

Spenser •, Hymn of Heavenly Beautie, 



A mother's beauty when her babe is waking, 

That babe's soft limbs from noonday slumber breaking, 

The angelic smile that ripples woman's face, 

And the delicious glow of youthful grace — 

Wrought in the fondest harmony of art — 

Were his least gifts, — his fine terrestrial part. 

Mother of Christ ! devoutly dignified, 
Clasp, clasp thine awful Babe in tender pride ; 
Whilst cherubs hovering in the azure blaze 
Bend on His face the rapture of their gaze. 



Such mystic splendours shook the Holy Mounts 
Such streams of glory shot from Mercy's fount; 
When God's great Saints descended from above,, 
And Man was all transfigured into Love, 



LEONARDO DA VINCI 



I judge him of a rectified spirit, 

In his bright reason's influence, refined 

Above the tartarous moods of common men ; 

Bearing the nature and similitude 

Of a right heavenly body ; most serene 

In fashion and collection of himself ; 

And then as clear and confident as Jove. 

Ben Jonson, Poetaster. 



He swept away all chilling clouds from sense, 
Love burned more sacred, wisdom more intense ; 
And each pure image mystically caught 
The subtle light of some eternal thought. 

The richest bloom upon those features lies, 
Dimpled and arched with woman 5 s courtesies ; 
Soft music still, methinks, is whispering there, 
As if Religion spread from one so fair. 
That dovelike sweetness, knit to reason's power, 
Bade the sage listen and the saint adore, 



When the good Saviour brake the food he blest, 
Though Hell grew human in the Traitors breast, 
And the serene expectance of His eye 
Weighed Man's dread question^ c Master! is it I V 



10 



CORREGGIO 



Shadows are moving light ; 

And is there aught so moving as is this ? 

Drummond of Hawthornden. 



? er rounded shapes a star of love is glowing 
In radiance through transparent shadows flowing ; 
The world's night-textured curtain, dim and dun, 
Is melted by a light before the Sun, — 
That light of all the earth, that healing splendour 
So white and heavenly, — yet so soft and tender ; 
The woodland Penitent, who musing lay, 
Feels the sweet glory melt her sins away ; 
And holy transport radiates through the gloom 
Which thickens round the mystery of the Tomb. 



11 

Or Venus, rainbow-wing'd, with sportive joy, 



Smiles showers of bliss upon her darling boy, 



Where the green depth of Art's enchanted grove 
Hides the forsaken shrine of Pagan love. 



12 



DOMENICHINO 



Must you have my picture ? But, indeed, 
If ever I would have mine drawn to the life, 
I would have a painter steal it at such time 
I were devoutly kneeling at my prayers ; 
There is then a heavenly beauty in % the soul 
Moves in the superficies. 

Old Play. 



O'er the calm mirror, whose coerulean breast 

Might float a spirit in her charmed nest, 

The Heavens drop sweetness, and their fragrant rain 

Wakes Eden's garden into bloom again. 

That Muse has Angels for her audience, 

Who hover on the harp-notes' sweet suspense ; 

Unearthly passion gems that Sibyl-eye, 

In which dark spells and hot affections lie ; 

And John's pure gaze, in Heaven's own light sublime, 

Rifts the great veil that curtains Man in Time. 



13 



GIORGIONE. 



Auch ich war in Arcadien geboren, 

Auch mir hat die Natur 
An meiner Wiege Freude zugeschworen ; 
Auch ich war in Arcadien geboren 
, Doch Thranen gab der kurze Lenz mir nivr. 

Schiller, Resignation. 



A globe of tinted opal was his world, 

Round which the heat of fragrant vapours curled ; 

He dreamed of Life, — a gorgeous holiday, 

With women born to queen it in the May, 

And men enamoured to such perfect fire, 

As made their heart-strings tremble with desire. 

Ah ! He w T ho dreamed that world in sadness dies ; 

The snake still haunts the meads of Paradise : 

And that voluptuous soul the pang must prove 

Of Envy's venom on the flowers of Love. 



14 



PAOLO VERONESE 



Most potent, grave, and reverend Signors 



Othello. 



In mitred state and sacred linen fold, 

With hood and tunic wrought in cloth of gold, 

Saint, pontiff, noble in the gauds of power 

Record the legend of an humbler hour ; 

But in the midst some simple form divine 

Marks the pure Godhead of that gorgeous shrine. 



15 



TITIAN. 



How this grace 
Speaks his own standing ! what a mental power 
This eye shoots forth ! how big imagination 
Moves in this lip ! to the dumbness of the gesture 
One might interpret ! 

Timon of Athens. 



How deep the firmament's eternal blue S 
How fair and fruitful is the landscape's hue ! 
In power and passion here the Indian boy, 
Drawn by hot leopards, rushes on his joy; 
Here woman, robed in her Venetian charms, 
Tempts some huge soul to banquet in her arms : 
Or should the dignity of saint and sage 
Demand a mould for Truth or reverend Age, 



16 

On the full brow he thrones the power of Jove, 
And honies o'er the lips with Christian love ; 
To these great tasks a patriarch's life was given, 
And his own Angels beckoned him to Heaven. 



17 



ALBRECHT DURER. 



Nascenti homini orrmifaria semina et oinnigenae vitse germina indidit 
Pater : quae quisque excoluerit ilia adolescent, et fructus suos ferent in 
illo. Si vegetalia, planta fiet. Si sensualia, obrutescit. Si rationalia, 
cceleste evadit animal. Si intellectualia, Angelus erit et Dei filius. 

Pico di Mirandote* 



Good Albrecht Diirer ! I have not the heart 
To hide thy name in any trick of art. 

Thou cunning workman of a thousand shapes, 
Knights, virgins, ghostly men and grinning apes ! 
Thou dreamer of imperishable dreams ! 
When Melancholy dozed by Lethe* s streams ; 
When his lean jennet bore Sir Death along 
Through bosky dells, by castles high and strong. 



What mystical and self-consuming sadness, 
Mixed with a gleam of visionary madness, 
Chequered the kindest soul which ever smiled, 
In the high moods of Genius 5 busy child ! 



19 



GIULIO ROMANO. 



Mox etiarn agrestes Satyros nudavit, et asper 
Incolumi gravitate jocum tentavit : eo quod 
Illecebris erat et grata novitate morandus 
Spectator, functusque sacris, et potus, et exlex. 



Horatius. 



Let loose thy Gods, oh Roman ! — Fauns uncouth, 

And a mad crew of vintage-girdled youth 

With their licentious loves : the Bromian lair 

Burns in a torrent of voluptuous air. 

But Venus, leaning from her dove-drawn car, 

To press the sinews of the God of War, 

Or Perseus on his own heroic steed, 

Lend their old beauty to the outworn creed, 

As if the charm of some magician^ wand 

Had given fantastic life to all the band. 



c 2 



20 



ALBANO 



They came : sweet music ushered the odorous way, 
And wanton air in twenty sweet forms danced 
After her fingers ; beauty and love advanced 
Their ensigns in the downless rosy faces 
Of youths and maids, led after by the Graces. 

Chapman {completion of Marlowe's Hero and Leander). 



Launch thy gay pinnace in the noonday beam, 
Let flutes breathe clear o'er Cydnus' crisped stream ; 
The Oreads, scarfed in rainbow zones, are fanned 
By the warm zephyr of this faery-land ; 
Earth gleams with flowers, the air with butterflies, — 
'Tis a gay fable, and like fable dies. 



21 



MICHAEL ANGELO CARAVAGGIO. 



Our haughty Life is crowned with Darkness. 



Wordsworth. 



Is this a Judith, Painter, that I see ? 

Each woman is a Judith unto thee : 

The warlike mail of shadow on the breast, 

The full swart limbs, the dusky-folded vest, 

And the high profile, blanched with passion's flood, 

Belong to Beauty in a guilty mood. 



22 



GUIDO RENI 



Guido ist eigentlich der Mahler der Seele. 

Schelling. 



Fair as the soul which never dreamed of ill, 
Strong as the presence of a virtuous will, 
In the white chambers of these downy breasts 
The chastest energy of Woman rests ; 
In these slight lines of infant innocence 
Dwells human beauty undisturbed by sense ; 
In these last pangs heroic limbs endure 
The spirit triumphs and the heart is pure. 



23 



SALVATOR ROSA, 



— Questa selva selvaggia ed aspra e forte 
Che nel pensier rinnova la paura. 



Dante. 



The sylvan painter from some tangled cave, 
Where feathering larches through the rock-clefts wave, 
On summer days would watch the clouds that sail 
With milky bosoms on the southern gale : 
Or bade fierce winds in Ocean chasms arise 
Which rocked the boughs with fitful harmonies, 
Shattered the crests of mighty groves, and rent 
The glorious earth with that bold element. 

Art, like a wood-nymph, passionate and free, 
Went out to summer 'neath the greenwood tree, 



24 

When that dear son (enriched with arts and wit 
To know mankind and make a friend of it) 
Laughed at the gilded lies of IAfe } and strayed 
To the cool depths of mountain ambuscade. 



25 



CLAUDE LORRAIN. 



Vedi il sole che 'n fronte ti riluce : 
Vedi 1' erbetta, i fiori e gli arboscelli 
Che quella terra sol da se produce. 

Dante, Purg. xxvii. 136, 



The calm of moonlight and the pomp of day 
Blend with the aery sunbeams on their way, 
To wave in paths of gold on summer seas, 
Smile o'er the earth and sweep the feathery trees. 
The ridge of distant mountains, blue and bare, 
Kisses in light the denser depth of air ; 
And clouds of incense, sea-born strangers, fly 
On the clear breeze of that enchanted sky. 



26 



NICOLAS POUSSIN. 

The pipe of Pan, to shepherds 

Couched in the shadow of Msenalian pines, 

Was passing sweet ; the eyeballs of the leopards 

That in high triumph drew the Lord of Vines, 

How did they sparkle to the cymbal's clang ! 

While Fauns and Satyrs beat the ground 

In cadence, and Silenus swang 

This way and that, with wild flowers crowned. 

Wordsworth. 

O'er the red earth the dog-star darts his beams, 

The sullen clouds are lulled in azure gleams, 

The sons of fable in their lusty dance 

Turn the gay nymphs and poise the vine-wreathed lance, 

And youths and maidens 'neath the tented trees 

Wait the cool summons of the freshening breeze. 



27 



GASPAR POUSSIN. 



He is retired as noontide dew, 

Or fountains in a noonday grove, 
And you must love him, ere to you 

He will seem worthy of your love. 
The outward shows of sky and earth, 

Of hill and valley, he has viewed, 
And impulses of deeper birth 

Have come to him in solitude. 



Wordsworth, 



If I could wander where a true sun shines. 
To Grezy Vaudan or thy Apennines, 
Companionable Artist ! thou shouldst chuse 
A summer pleasaunce for the happy Muse, 
Near some fair city, or the ruined fanes 
Of the old Gods, the genii of those plains. 

Charmed by the witchery of the vernal air 
The sight would revel in a world so fair, 



28 

Crest the bold headland, search the dipping glades, 
Watch the faint sea-line o'er the glossy shades : 
The sunshine dripping through the dense green boughs 
Would bathe the painted banks ; and we 'd arouse 
A choir of Dianas nymphs from yonder brake 
To dance around thee for thy kinsman's sake. 



29 



RUBENS 



I have been from my childhood alway of a Tumorous and stormy 
nature. 

Martin Luther. 



These florid limbs the soul of passion fills, 
Strength in desire through every muscle thrills ; 
A world of moving colour round him flies, 
Like showers and sunshine in his breezy skies. 
The Wind-God and the Sea-God shout aloud, 
And urge the tempests on their fins of cloud ; 
In wild contortions Frenzy, Guilt, Despair, 
Are hurled across the battlements of air ; 
But children all unswathed in summer bowers 
Guard luscious fruits and sport with twisted flowers. 



30 



REMBRANDT. 



Come a raggio di sol che puro mei 

Per fratta nube, gia prato di fiori 

Vider coperti d'ombra gli occhi miei ; 
Vid' io cosi piu turbe di splendori 

Fulgurati di su di raggi ardenti 

Senza veder principio di fulgori. 

Dante. Parad. xxiii. 34. 



From murky pits the fiery vapours rise 
Which flare in orange meteors o'er the skies, 
The vault of Heaven is strewn with clouds in flight, 
The chasing whirlwinds urge the dreadful fight, 
Terror sits brooding o'er the forest's gloom, 
Above, a hell of light, — below, a tomb. 

Shed all thy snow-white shafts of light, Oh Day ! 
Night ! spread thy tent of bistre and of grey ; 



31 

That Hope and Life, suffused in one bright star, 
May, like good planets, send their beams to war 
With all the gloom that age, or grief, or death 
Can fling across the upward ways of Faith. 



32 



RUYSDAEL 



There is something of softness, not unallied to sorrow, in these mild 
winter days and their humid sunshine. 

Landor. 



Grey river ! down the mountain stepping-stones 
From piny glens above thy torrent moans ; 
Bare are the stems of fir which winter's blast 
(Scarce spent as yet) across the crags has cast ; 
Thick atmospheres,, and sullen evergreen 
Hang their dense curtain round the sober scene. 
O uninhabitable wilderness ! 
O home for discontent or shy distress ! 
The Artist loved thy sternly saddened air, 
But never human image placed he there. 



33 



ALBERT CUYP. 



Ergo tua rura manebunt 
Et tibi magna satis ; quamvis lapis omnia nudus, 
Limosoque palus obducat pascua junco. 



VirgiL 



The moisten'd lowlands, delicately clear, 
Through the thin haze and morning gleam appear ; 
On the smooth herbage cattle graze or sleep, 
The neatherds by the rushy streamlet keep 
Their quiet watch, until the day expire, 
And slanting sunbeams gild the village spire. 



34 



WOUVERMANS 



They will tell you by rote where sendees were done ; at such and such 
a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy ; who came off bravely, who 
was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on, and this they 
con perfectly in the phrase of war. 

Henry V. 



The tucket sounds : dash on, thou Flemish grey ! 
Speed, bold Walloon, to join the gathering fray ! 
The skirmish reeks to heaven ; a tawny cloud 
Wraps the hot combat in its frightful shroud ; 
In mortal battle struggling for the van, 
Horse rolls on horse, and man must slaughter man. 



35 



VANDYKE, REYNOLDS, AND TITIAN 

(A SAYING OF NORTHCOTE.) 



At least thy pictures look a voice, and we 
Imagine sounds, deceived to that degree, 
We think 't is somewhat more than just to see. 



Dryden. 



Vandyke upon his faithful canvass spread 

The pictured portrait of the mighty dead ; 

Reynolds the graces of his age revives, 

And in his magic glass their image lives ; 

But Titian's portraits, eloquently clear, 

Are living men, — they think, they speak, they hear ! 



d 2 



36 



MORALES. 



Tra me si va nella citta dolente. 

Dante. 



Know ye that haughtier and severer land, 
Where Art was led by Philip's marble hand, 
Through laurel groves and crypts of sacred dread, 
Where torches flash upon the palaced dead ? 
There He surnamed Divine — divine in woe, 
Bade all the mysteries of torture glow ; 
In trickling gore the writhing Saint he bathed, 
In robes of black th' ecstatic martyr swathed, 
He made the Cross of Jesus more austere, 
And drew Devotion in the garb of Fear. 



37 



VELASQUEZ. 



He had perceived the presence and the power 
Of greatness ; and deep feeling had impressed 
Great objects on his mind, with portraiture 
And colour so distinct, that on his mind 
They lay like substances, and almost seemed 
To haunt the bodily sense. 

Wordsworth, 

Yet there some gallant, stately as the Cid, 
Springs from the canvass, if the Master bid ; 
Waves the towered standard of Castille again, 
And checks his charger with a soldier's rein. 
Yet there some visage, tried in cunning strife, 
Hides the shrewd secret of a statesman's life ; 
Yet there some monarch in his knighthood stands, 
Spurns the low earth and half that earth commands, 



38 



MURILLO 



Vidi a voi, Donna, portare 
Ghirlandetta di fior gentile, 
E sovra lei vidi volare 
Angiolel d'Amore umile, 
E nel suo cantar sottile 
Diceva : Chi mi vedra 
Laudera il mio Signore. 



Dante. 



There too the cheerful Andalusian drew 

In melting colour all his fancy knew : 

No solemn saints, nor forms of glorious youth 

In the high stature of eternal Truth, 

But, buoyed on incense, sportive cherubs rode, 

Tossed up their arms and round the maiden crowed. 

Some village maiden lent the Virgin's face 

Its sprightly coyness and its simple grace, 



39 

Some rustic girl who scarce an hour before 
With those dark urchins frolicked by the door. 
All natural graces in their forms abide, — 
But natural graces all beatified. 



PRINTED BY RICHARD AND JOHN E. TAYLOR, 
RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET. 



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